Spilling Shadow Magic
by Goblin Cat KC
Summary: Thor sets out to battle the on Svartalfheim, as requested by Queen Alflyse. However, dangerous magics are in play and the thunder god now spurns the aid of Loki, who must waste time in holmgang while Thor risks his life. But Loki has other ideas. THORKI (Changed the title from Fortune Spilling)
1. Chapter 1

**Fortune Spilling**

by KC

**Disclaimer**: dun own

**Rating**: R for glorious violence

**Summary**: Thor sets out to battle the on Svartalfheim, as requested by Queen Alflyse. However, dangerous magics are in play and the thunder god now spurns the aid of Loki, who must waste time in holmgang while Thor risks his life.

* * *

Normally Loki did not waste time on runes, but normally he wasn't to be left behind on a key battle. He was accustomed to his place at Thor's shoulder, accompanying him into battle, keeping his hard-headed brother alive from threats more subtle than axes and swords. Kneeling in his chambers, he shook the stones in his hands, whispering to them songs under his breath. Above him, the cold winter sun cast a pale, white light that hardly lit the room, make his shadow faint and indistinct.

Years of immersing himself in magic had left its mark on his shadow. It chose to ignore what he was doing, and its dark shape sprawled out on its side, watching the clouds passing by the window, occasionally glancing over to see what Loki did. If Loki exerted a little energy, he could send his shadow on errands to tip over cooking pans in the kitchen or trip Fandral over his loose boot laces, and when alone, he allowed it to do as it liked.

He spilled out the runes, his gaze soaking up how each one tumbled into place, marks up or down, and he leaned over them for a better look.

The door swung open. Loki did not look up, knowing Thor's footfalls by heart, and continued to read even as his brother came in and knelt on one knee in front of him.

"Still you play with these toys," Thor grumbled. "Even now, Wuldor awaits you in the circle."

"Wuldor is a coward," Loki said, lightly touching one rune. "He accused me solely to avoid the battle in Svartalfheim."

"Not only to avoid the fight," Thor argued mildly, conceding the point. "But you gave him perfect opportunity. Few fear you as they fear me."

"I will not have you fighting my battles for me," Loki said as he leaned up, taking a long breath to calm himself. "I am as much the warrior as you."

Thor had to smile, and he put his hand on Loki's shoulder, jostling his lighter frame. There was no mistaking the difference between them. Sun and shadow, strength and cunning, a hammer and a knife.

"I know," Thor said. "And after a holmgang, they will all know it doubly. But you brought it on yourself, pushing off allowing me to champion you in the ring."

"Like a woman?" Loki grimaced. "They'd call me Lady Loki."

"They already call you worse," Thor said. "Loki Silvertongue, Loki Liesmith..."

"Those I earn, and enjoy the earning," Loki said, but his smile faded and hesitated, glancing up at his brother uncertainly. "Wuldor is strong. I will not win the fight before you go. Can you not postpone your combat?"

"I wish I could bring you with me," Thor said, but his face was resolute. "But you must face and defeat Wuldor. I dare not imagine what would happen if you faced retribution for missing a holmgang."

"And what would happen?" Loki asked. "Stripped of my inheritance? You will have the crown, brother, we both know that."

"Loki-" Thor started, knowing what was coming.

"Stripped of my lands?" Loki laughed. "I have no land-"

"Loki-"

"-and I doubt I would much change where I sleep-"

"Loki!" Thor said sternly, cutting him off and looking over his shoulder at the open door to be sure they were alone. "You will not jeopardize your match with Wuldor. You will not jeopardize your standing as a prince. And you will stay here to face him."

"Thor-" Loki frowned, trying to sit up higher as his brother leaned on him hard.

"Win your holmgang."

"Thor-"

"And join me in our feast when we return victorious," Thor finished with a grin.

"Thor!" Loki yelled over him. "You will not be victorious!"

Their gazes met. Thor's brow knit as he frowned, trying to understand what Loki meant. Then he looked down at the runes.

"You've seen something," Thor said, and his voice was artificially flat as he spoke. "Do I die?"

"...deathless defeat," Loki said, putting his hand on two runes. "And these ones, shame in returning. Loss. Defeat."

Thor did not answer. Loki grabbed his collar and sat straighter, staring at his brother as if he could will him to change his plans and give in.

"You have to stall the battle," Loki hissed.

"Whose?" Thor said softly, then met Loki's look. "Mine or yours?"

"I'm not trying to avoid Wuldor," Loki snapped. "If you go without me, you will lose this fight. You have to-"

"No," Thor said, standing up out of Loki's grip and backing away. He shook his head once, then twice, as if he could make himself forget. "No, you have to give up this spellcraft. Destroy Wuldor and then wait. And I will go face my fate, whatever it may be."

"But if I was there-" Loki tried one more time, still on his knees.

Thor's cape swirled around his brother as he turned, striding out as if the runes had offended them. The cape drew tight in Loki's hands, then slipped away.

"Know your place," Thor growled over his shoulder. "Our fate will unwind as it must."

He slammed the door and stomped down the hall, fading away finally at the farthest staircase. Loki

listened, his eyes closed in resignation, and got to his feet, leaving the runes on the floor. There was no need to gather them back up. He did not need them, not really. The runes had only told him what he'd already deduced. There was treachery and cleverness in Svartalfheim , a kind of deviousness that Loki had not yet guessed. That Thor would survive was cold comfort. His proud brother would stoop under such a defeat, and Loki could not bear to see his brother bent forward in sadness.

"But I do know my place," Loki murmured, going to the window and looking out.

The fighting forces of Asgard stood massed on the Bifrost, resplendent in their armor with weapons polished to mirror reflections. From his high chambers, Loki saw them as knights and pawns, small enough to move along the board. And there was his brother striding out amongst them like a king, easily commanding their respect, directing their movements, so that they prepared to follow him to combat.

Volstagg stood out, three times the size of any other Asgard warrior, and beside him Fandral, three times as preening as he flourished his sword theatrically for the women at the side. Sif stood with them, stretching as she watched Thor approach. The rest of the warriors tugged on armor already strapped on, making last little adjustments or shaking off the last bits of their hangovers from the feast the night before. In front, Heimdall waited with his ax, the guardian of the Bifrost ready to allow them passage.

Fighters, all of them. Odin was occupied in Muspelheim, and Frigga must watch over Asgard in their absence. Loki leaned up on his window, watching Thor, easily following his red cape as it swirled over the Bifrost. His brother was the most intelligent person in the assemblage, and the thought made him wince. It also made up his mind.

Loki climbed up onto his window and stepped out into the open air. Fingers became feathers. The ground rushed up at him and then blurred as he veered up, balancing on black wings, swooping in low over the warriors and coming to rest on Thor's shoulder.

"What-?" Thor gasped, leaning aside, then relaxing when he saw the large raven perched by his helmet. "Where did-?"

"Looks like Odin means to keep an eye on you," Sif teased him. "Is this Huginn or Muninn? I can never tell them apart."

"Nor I," Thor said, narrowing his eyes at the bird. "Although...Muninn?"

Loki remained silent, staring at Heimdall as if daring him to say a word.

"Huginn," Thor said more confidently.

This time Loki cawed once, as if answering to his name, and rustled his feathers.

Thor caught Loki around the throat and pulled him off his shoulder, giving him a shake that brought Loki back to his proper form. Held precariously bent back, he had to grasp Thor's arm so that he didn't fall over, and he winced as Thor tightened his grip on his neck.

"A good try," Thor said with a nod. "I had a feeling you would make the attempt, but you cannot accompany me to this battle. Not today."

"If you leave me," Loki rasped, feeling each of Thor's fingertips digging into his throat. "You leave all chance of victory behind."

"Go defeat Wuldor," Thor said and let go, watching impassively as Loki stumbled and came up straight. "I will see you tonight."

Loki scowled, but there was no point in arguing with Thor when he was before the men. Every order was given with confidence, and that included orders to his little brother. As the Bifrost opened, the Asgardians marched through, chuckling lowly at the sorcerer left behind. With so many of them there, they took several seconds to pass by, and Loki gave Heimdall a glare.

"You said nothing," he commented.

"Huginn is with Odin," Heimdall said, staring straight forward as always. "And Muninn with Frigga."

"Hm." Loki frowned in thought.

"Wuldor waits for you," Heimdall said as if Loki needed reminding. "There's already a small crowd."

"Is he shaking in fear?" Loki asked. He didn't really care, but it passed the seconds as the warriors continued to step through the rift.

"He is waving around your answering note and proclaiming you a coward," Heimdall said.

"If you can see everything," Loki said testily, "take another glance at that note I sent him."

Curious, Heimdall looked, and Loki used the brief distraction and moved as if to leave, changing at the last moment into a spider that nestled in the thick fur of the last warrior. As the rift closed behind them, the last thing Loki heard was Heimdall's laughter ringing in the dome.

Tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Patiently clinging to the strands of the warrior's furs, Loki listened to his brother's voice and the sounds around them. They were in a courtyard—the acoustics gave it away, reflecting the sound of the warriors milling about and their murmuring while birds sang in the trees and wind rustled the leaves. He kept an ear out for Thor and assumed that the woman's voice he heard, foreign and lilting, was the Queen Alflyse.

Civil war, he knew, and the witch Zhullumdra led her army against the queen in an attempt to take the realm. Loki weaved a tiny thread to pull together two bits of fur, and then relaxed in his web. The subtle shades of politics no longer mattered here. Thor had been summoned as the queen's ally, and Thor's solution would be to destroy the army and kill the witch.

Not as enjoyable as little tricks here and there, the throwing of a horse's shoe, a misfired spell that set a swath of warriors on fire. But invigorating nonetheless. And if he knew that vague disaster waited for his brother, some unseen danger that he could not puzzle out, Loki believed he would recognize trickery when he saw it and guard Thor in time.

The march to the battlefield began quickly, and Loki rolled his eight eyes. Thor spent so little time talking to the queen that he bordered on rude, so eager to reach the battlefield, and Loki used the moment to snatch a little nap, making up for the lost sleep spent casting runes.

Thor's battle cry startled him, and the clashing of steel woke him fully. The fight had begun, and he clung tightly to his little nest as his warrior ran to catch up to the others. He had to wait for the jostling twists and turns of his mount, the heavy thrusts of the shoulders that meant that battle had begun in earnest-

His warrior jerked to a stop, spinning once and falling dizzingly fast.

"Ah, he's taken an arrow," Loki thought. "This mount will go no further." And he gathered his legs under himself and jumped, taking in the battlefield as he lingered in the air.

It was hard to see. The darkness he'd mistaken for the warrior's dense fur was actually a storm overhead, blowing cold wind and smelling of pent up rain. The rest of the warriors continued to run in front of him, followed by a row of men so dark that they were blue, and behind them-

Loki landed in a crouch, flicking his hand to deflect the next wave of arrows, and he touched the sheath on his belt, felt the grip of his throwing knife. The cold steel reassured him in every battle, and he walked forward with a look of sober determination. No need to run. There were dark elves aplenty to kill, and he did not want to catch up with his brother too quickly.

He did not have to worry. It began to rain, and soon mud splattered up and mixed with blood, and the splashes muted the greens and golds of his armor.

The closer he came, the more dark elves noticed the glowing knives cutting down their comrades. Loki drew the same handful of blades each time from his belt, never running out, but as the elves began to make their way closer, their spears and swords held high, he took a step back and glanced around. And smiled.

A push of the toe of his boot flipped up the spear at his feet. Long and thin, it spun in the air and landed with a satisfying heft in his hand, and he turned the foot-long blade in an arc that took the head of the closest elf. Blood sprayed out, and Loki dodged it and the sword aimed at his chest, leaning back to stick the spear in the elf's stomach. Then jerk it free and turned, bringing the spear around to slash across the last elf's chest.

But it was not the last elf, and now he was surrounded by swords and screams, mixing with the Asguardians, careful not to hit them. The spear felt unwieldy at such close quarters, jostled against the heavy shoulders of the warriors around him, but he kept the spear and jabbed its end into the faces and chests of anything not from his own realm.

Where was his brother? Thor must have been farther ahead, at the vaward of the army, and Loki would have to cross the whole field to catch up.

A dark elf lunged over another warrior, holding his sword high and aiming at Loki's helm. Bracing one leg in the dirt and bringing the spear up to meet the elf's chest, Loki stumbled at the warrior's weight and went backwards, throwing the elf aside as he staggered back. Blood spilled down the spear and colored his hands.

Hundreds more where that one came from. The fight would be over by the time he carved a path through. With a flick of his hand to show it where to go, he sent his shadow out to find his brother.

As he let it slip away, the clouds overhead finally thundered and sent down a burst of lightning that struck deep into elf army. Rain came down in a cold torrent so that it was hard to see through the sheets of water, like ice creeping under his armor, and the ground turned to slick mud. His boots crunched as he slid under an elf's outstretched sword and sliced off its arm.

He'd killed three more elves before he began to grow worried. If his shadow got lost, he'd be hard pressed to find it again, and who knows what crimes it would heap on his head before he found it? And if another sorcerer found it? Was there a measure of control to be found in someone's shadow? Strange that he'd never thought of it.

Long minutes passed. The sky grew so dark that only the lightning bursts gave them light to see by, and Loki finally ignored his better sense and motioned with his hand, calling out "leoht gast wandrian!"

Dozens of spectral lights leaped up from the bodies of the fallen, lighting the rain like falling diamonds and casting a cold glow on the field as they sped off in all directions, giving the Asgardians a better chance in the darkness. True, all of them would know that they had a sorcerer on their side, and that meant they knew that Loki had somehow stolen away with them, but he doubted they would complain.

Well, Thor might.

A nervous ripple shot down his spine. His shadow had finally found his brother.

Loki knelt and put his hand to the mud, finding the thinnest trace of his shadow as it reached back to touch him. In one disorienting rush, the warriors around him blurred and he had the sensation of moving faster than a galloping horse, traveling through the darkness and emerging at Thor's side as he slid to a stop in the mud.

Quick as thought, he ducked, barely avoiding Thor's instinctive blow, wheeling around his hammer over Loki's head and into the elf closing in. There was no doubting Thor's scowl as he turned, putting them back to back in the middle of the fighting.

"I knew it!" Thor roared at him, swatting down half a dozen elves in one swing. "I knew you would sneak through somehow!"

"Don't mince words!" Loki yelled over the clash of shield and sword, throwing his spear into the first elf and falling back on his favored throwing knives. "You're overjoyed to see me!"

"And I will relish these last moments of your royalty," Thor said, bringing down the lightning again. "Wuldor is not worthy of your casting it off so lightly."

"You should know me better than that!" Loki said. He couldn't help smiling now that he felt Thor's back against his, felt the unfurling cape against his shoulders. "I know it is much to ask, but trust me!"

"Only a fool trusts Asgard's deceiver," Thor said. "Down!"

Knowing what was coming, Loki fell to one knee, dropping two more elves as Thor raised his hammer and summoned another blast of lightning. Feeling the electrical arcs overhead sent a shiver of excitement through him, a jolt of adrenalin as Loki looked up at his brother framed by the rippling energy.

The elf that appeared over Thor's shoulder came with daggers out, a moment from driving them into his brother's throat. Loki came up like a snake striking, sending a knife an inch from Thor's cheek and into the elf's eye. The body still knocked into his brother, and Thor landed hard on Loki, who landed hard on his back in the mud.

"Get...off...!" Loki groaned, pushing Thor up. Their wet hair stuck to his face as he tried to shake free. "You're heavy as a bilgesnipe!"

"Lift something heavier than a book," Thor snapped, getting back to his feet and swinging the hammer for good measure. "Turning pages is not proper training!"

"Aye!" another voice cut in. "A trick with the lights is fine, but no spell will ever take the place of a sharp sword!"

The voice set Loki's teeth on edge. He glared to the side where Fandral stood, his sword covered in blood, and Hogun beside him, kicking a body off his spear. Of course the warriors three would be here, and if they were nearby, then Sif had to be-

A shrill scream came from his left, the usual racket the woman made whenever she fought. Sif turned, taking off an elf's head, then brought her sword around and cut another elf down at the knees, deflecting a spear against her shield. A quick thrust of her sword through the elf's gut ended the fight and she stood straight, using her arm to wipe away blood from a cut above her eye.

"Thor!" she cried with a grin. "I think their number lessens!"

Her smile faded when she saw Loki. He saw it in her eyes. She remembered her golden hair, unrivaled in all of Asgard, and the shock of waking up to see it shorn away in the morning. Thor had called her black hair beautiful, but Loki knew the woman's heart. He smiled at her, making no secret of his satisfaction at her longing.

"Still enough to kill us," Loki said too lightly. "And I wouldn't turn your back if I was you-"

A handful of his knives flew past her, going by her shield as she raised it too late, and thunked solidly into the two elves by her. She turned, dispatching the third, then tilted her shield and pulled out his knife stuck in her shield. She raised an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged insincerely. "So sorry. Didn't mean to."

She opened her mouth to snarl at him, but there was no time for arguments. Hard pressed as they were, they fell into a circle, Volstagg and Hogun, Fandral and Sif, guarding each other's flanks. Loki finished off the circle, still with his back to Thor, and kept up such a volley of knives and spells that it did not matter if he had no sword.

It was a familiar formation, one they had used before, often whenever Thor dragged them on a fool adventure and they had to guard their sorcerer as he summoned a path home. With no need for spellcraft, Loki indulged in the feeling of earning his place, glancing sideways sometimes to see Fandral or Hogun turn their back on him. Their trust always struck him. Trust the trickster to guard them as they turned? But they always did, and he savored the sense of being a warrior even with his endless little knives.

Mist, thick and gray, rose from the mud. Loki frowned and took a step back, guarded as Fandral and Hogun took a step closer to each other to close the circle again. He knelt and put his hand to the ground. Warm. Like taking a deep breath, he gathered his power and held it ready.

"Mist during such a storm?" Sif wondered. "This does not bode well."

"There is the certain touch of magic," Loki confirmed. "But I have not spied their seidkona yet."

"Elf magic," Volstagg spat and used his forearm to drag his soaked hair from his eyes. "Mist cannot hurt us."

"It can if it blinds us," Loki said flatly, ignoring his sour look. Why his brother chose these four for companions boggled his mind, and again he wondered why their approval meant so much to him.

Fandral began to reply, but a long, low note drowned out his voice. The note, the sound made from a long horn, called across the field. Swords and shields fell silent. Warriors on both sides stood still and listened. Behind himself, Loki felt Thor turn and put a hand on his shoulder, jostling him and holding him reassuringly at the same time.

The mist parted, and the elves parted with it, stepping back and leaving a clear path to the small group. On the other end of the path, Loki spotted the slender woman standing and waiting for them. Her hair was wrapped and beaded with shells, her clothing was ragged at the edges, and her dark feet were bare, covered in mud to her calves.

"That'll be her," Sif said needlessly.

"What do you think she wants?" Fandral asked.

"Your downfall," Loki said softly. He glanced over his shoulder at Thor and met his look. "Here it is. What I warned you of."

"You have no way of knowing that," Thor murmured. "You did not see yourself here when you cast our runes."

"I don't know how my presence will change things," Loki conceded, then grinned. "Shall we go talk to her? She's gone to all this trouble to meet you."

"Aye," Thor nodded once. "I would have words with her."

His tone promised much more than talk, and Loki let Thor pass by, taking his place at his brother's shoulder. Manic excitement welled within him. He strode towards this woman's place of power with no preparation, little knowledge of her own abilities, and he was tired from fighting whereas she looked fresh.

The runes had warned him of a deathless defeat. He hoped he had not changed their fates to lead them to death, instead.

Tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

A broad circle of stones, painted gray with rain, surrounded the elf witch, giving her plenty of room though she remained in the center. Lowering herself down into a crouch, she watched them come closer, tilting her head as she studied them. One by one she looked over each warrior, clearly evaluating them in turn. Soaked, with streaming hair and clothes wet with rain and blood, they looked like tired, determined warriors, warily watching the elves around them with their weapons unsheathed. Silent as she stared, at last the witch opened her mouth and spoke in a gravelly, grave voice.

"Wend kommen anseidmadr?" she asked. _(Here comes a sorcerer?)_

Thor frowned. "She speaks the old elven language."

"And we don't," Fandral said drily. "So how do we talk to her?"

"Why talk?" Hogun said. "I can kill her from here."

"Yes," Loki chuckled. "Attack the witch after she has created her circle. I'd love to see what happens."

Hogun glanced sideways at him and took his hand off his spear.

"An mensuren anseidmadr?" the witch asked, nodding at Sif. "Ven, da cowardsen." _(Must I guess the sorceress? Come, you coward.)_

"I think I understood that last bit," Sif snapped, turning her sword over in anticipation. "No one calls me a coward."

"She thinks you're a witch," Loki said. "And that you are refusing to meet her in a proper duel to decide the battle."

"How know you her speech?" Thor demanded, turning toward him but never taking his eyes from the witch. "Did you learn her tongue just now?"

"Some of my books are written in old Svartelven," Loki said. "It is one of the languages of magic."

Volstagg spat on the mud. "We don't traffic in woman's craft. Asgard warriors settle things with swords. Tell her that."

Loki rolled his eyes, but a quick look from Thor prompted him to step around his brother and come up to the edge of the stones. The witch turned her gaze from Sif and paid him more mind, the little god that seemed so slight compared to the other warriors.

"Na cowardsei," he said, motioning toward Sif. "Na anseidmadr. In blud an sverth vinna. Seidrmadr na venen Asgard." _(Not cowards. Not sorcerers. We live by blood and the sword. No sorcerers stay in Asgard.)_

"What did you tell her?" Fandral asked, but Loki waved him back, listening instead to her reply.

To their surprise, the witch laughed, and her shells rattled softly as she crouched down, half-settled like an animal. She reached her hand down to the string of shells that formed her belt, drawing a large claw free and holding the hooked talon like a dagger. Its point glistened with poison, and she pointed at Sif.

"Vinna sverth, ja. Ven min hringja steinen, holmgangan seidrkona. Ven min hringja, na se cowardsei." _(You come with swords, yes. Come in my stone circle, my sorcerer's duel circle. Come in my circle, or you are a coward.)_

Loki blinked, then smiled self-consciously at what he had to translate. The others pressed in on him, and he glanced apologetically at Sif.

"She does not believe that you are not a witch yourself," Loki said. "She says come into her ring of stones and fight the holmgang, or else you are a coward."

"She challenges me to a holmgang? I'll show that little pissant witch a reckoning," Sif said, her words clipped, and she had stepped into the circle before Thor could reach to stop her, reaching toward her shoulder too slow.

After a moment, Thor let his hand drop and stood with a huff, watching Sif and the witch face off. Everyone's attention fell to them, elf standing side by side with Asgard, and Loki stood straight, concentrating hard. His shadow began to touch and prod at the circle, seeking an easy entrance, and he frowned when he found it so well guarded. Sif had found it easy to step through, so why could his shadow not-?

Sif lunged, her sword neatly cutting an arc towards the ground, but too slow. The witch's smile spread in satisfaction as she turned just a few inches to avoid the slash, then turned her hand and pointed at the mud beneath Sif's boot.

The mud moved, and Sif's ankle turned. Carried forward by the weight of her sword, Sif twisted hard as she fell, landing on her side and turning on her back as the witch pounced. Her blade blocked the witch's claw before it could reach her face, and with a strong kick, she managed to throw off her enemy and climb back to her feet.

"The witch fights well," Thor murmured. "Sif's advantage has always been her speed, but this witch matches her move for move."

"Sif will lose," Loki whispered, coming up at his shoulder. "If we do nothing. Brother—"

"It is a duel," Thor said without glancing at him. "Not all Aesir so easily cast aside what that means."

"Fine," he muttered, shooting Thor an irritated glare as he stepped back. "Ignore me, then. The witch does me no harm in this. Mangle her pretty face for all I care—"

A moment later, there was a burst of smoke and heat, and Sif landed in the mud, her long braid trailing in a puddle. She didn't move, and blood spread along the side of her tunic. The witch knelt and turned her so that her face did not lie in the water, then tore her clothing to better expose the wound.

Loki glanced dispassionately at her. "Well, that was quick."

"The witch's poison," Fandral said, grimacing at the dark spidery threads under her skin. "Thor, it spreads."

Thor turned to Loki, about to ask him to heal Sif and wondering what he might have to bargain with his brother for, when the witch cut him off. Kneeling over Sif, the witch flipped her claw in the air, catching the poisoned tip without fear and balancing it on one finger.

"Na seidrkona," the witch said, tilting her head in agreement. "Na seidrmann? Ven, schawen ma sa erginsen." _(Not a sorceress. A witch, then? Come, show me your witchery.)_

Loki frowned and glanced at his comrades, wondering if they'd catch any of their words in her mouth. Fortunately they did not, although if they did realize what she meant now, they would soon now anyway.

"Min erginsen es ower deyja," Loki snapped, irritated at her growing grin. _(My witchcraft is your death.)_

"Na seidrmann?" she said, wagging a finger at him as she knelt, laughing and setting the rest of the men around her to low chuckling. "Se grownden se minnen. Va, cowardsei Asgarden." _(Not a sorcerer, you say? The ground is mine, then. Go, Asgardian cowards.)_

"What says she?" Thor demanded, putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Demand that she return Sif."

"Here is what I feared," Loki said, lowering his head. "Deathless defeat, Thor. She says that if none of us will fight her, we must admit we have lost."

"'Lost'," Thor echoed, looking down at Sif as she groaned beneath the witch. "If we lose, all our warriors fell for naught. Why must we duel this witch when we have the advantage in numbers?"

"Because she has created her circle," Loki explained, with all the air of one who has explained such things many times before. "The elves have her protection now. If we do not defeat her, we cannot defeat them."

"Then let us step into her circle," Thor said. "She is not so fast that Mjolnir cannot crack her head."

"Ahem." Loki cleared his throat, loathe to broach the subject. "This circle is not your normal holmgang ground. If you try to broach its edge—"

"Oh, enough prattle," Volstagg said, drawing his sword once more. "Who cares for a witch's reasons? Cold steel will break her power, for a certain."

Loki raised his hand in a half-aborted attempt to caution him, but Volstagg had charged the circle without looking at him. A crackle of power answered him, followed by the smell of smoke and Volstagg on his arse in the mud with the edges of his mustache singed and hissing in the rain. Loki laughed once despite himself, but no one heard him under the laughter of the elves.

"If you try to broach its edge," Loki continued, carefully choosing his words, "it will repel you. Only a wielder of magic may enter. I believe that was her whole purpose in this. Defeat the prince of Asgard and she gains far more standing in the eyes of the rest of this world. The queen loses face in her poor choice of allies, and this turns from a rebel's battle to full fledged civil war. And Thor loses to a woman."

There was silence as the truth of it washed over them. The elves around listened, smiling in grim satisfaction as their sacrifice was acknowledged. They had died to give their witch time to create her circle of power, and now their success was all but assured.

"Thor loses to a sorceress," Fandral clarified, but in a soft voice as if reasoning with himself. "That...that be no small thing. We are warriors. We do not deal in woman's work."

Thor did not speak. He stared at Sif, only a few paces away but out of reach, and the witch standing over her like a hawk over a mouse. To leave meant also leaving Sif behind.

"Loki..." he started.

"I know your mind," Loki cut him off. "And I cannot do it. Though I may change your outer form to a woman's, you are still Thor. You would still be a warrior. Not a sorceress."

Thor frowned, hesitating at what he would ask next. This was his battle. He had led the attack, and by all rights, he should end the attack as well. He looked at his brother, and Loki, who guessed his thought, smiling up sadly at him, ignoring the fog and rain that chilled the air.

"I leave behind a holmgang to prove I am a man," he chuckled, "only to face a holmgang to prove I am not a man."

"Loki, no." Thor turned and faced him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You have nothing to prove to us. Your learning sets you apart, 'tis true, but you will forever be my brother."

Behind Thor's back, Fandral and Hogun rolled their eyes as they helped Volstagg to his feet. Loki cast those looks into his memory and returned his attention to Thor.

"But perhaps not a prince of Asgard," Loki said lightheartedly, as if the thought of being stripped of his rank and titles held no meaning for him. "Will you still love me if I am not Loki Odinson, merely Loki Liesmith?"

"Asgard loses her honor today if you do not win this battle," Thor said firmly, loud enough for every Aesir to hear. "Only you can win us this fight."

Thor meant his hand on his brother's shoulder to be reassuring. His heavy arm jostled Loki instead, and yet the god of mischief felt his heart swell despite himself. Nearly a head shorter than some of the other gods and with the most slender frame among them, Loki nevertheless had Thor's respect and trust. No matter how many times he trampled that trust, his pride warmed at having it.

"You're glad I came?" Loki asked, looking up at him. Water ran down his helmet, and he took hold of his helm of horns and pulled it free. His hair immediately turned damp and soaked.

Thor smiled ruefully. "Though it cost you at home, though you disregard my command, and even if you were not our only hope...yes. I am glad to have you at my side."

Loki glanced at the witch, who watched him with wary disdain. Her claw dripped poison on Sif's back, and in her other hand she gathered magic into a glowing sphere, lighting the gray mud. It would not be an easy match. Her power was raw but tangible.

"Loki...?" Thor asked, not sure how his brother would decide. "Will you do this?"

"Oh, honestly," Loki sighed. He shoved his helmet into Thor's arms and grabbed a stray thread from his brother's cape, tying his short hair back tight. "You had only to ask. Must you make a production of everything?"

Before Thor could answer, Loki went to the edge of the stones and tapped his fingers in the air, wincing at the spark that crackled along the witch's circle. She chuckled and put her hands at her chest, running her palms along her breasts and leaning forward to give him a better look.

"Na seidrmann ya diche," she chided. "Ven min vringa steinen, erginsen. Sa holmgangan seidrkona." _(Not a sorcerer, you said. Come in my stone circle, witch. A magic duel.)_

"What does she say?" Fandral demanded.

"Learn her language if you are so curious," Loki snapped, and he glared at the witch for making it just that much more difficult. "Miaownen kunton." _(Mewling quim.)_

The witch raised an eyebrow but otherwise didn't move.

"Oh," Fandral said, eyes wide. "I think I understood that last one."

"Why do you gaze so?" Volstagg asked as he rubbed his face, trying to get back the feeling in it.

"Just another reason women do not belong on the battlefield," Fandral muttered. "A lack of proper decorum."

"She demands a sorceress to match her," Loki said over his shoulder, not about to translate her direct meaning. "I will have to...shape change."

A moment passed as Thor thought about what that meant. His eyes went wide for a moment, but then he shrugged.

"You shall be at a disadvantage," he nodded, "having to hold the guise of a woman. You shall have to kill her quick."

With wide, startled eyes, Loki slowly turned and stared at his sibling.

"Yes," he said drily, giving Thor a once-over to make sure his brother was serious. The other warriors all realized why he was loathe to do so, and their faces mirrored his own understanding, but his voice was dry as he spoke to Thor. "Exactly my concern."

But he was committed. Loki heaved a breath and turned again to the circle, closing his eyes, and with a moment of deep concentration, reshaped his flesh. His skin crawled. Muscle and sinew rippled as bones subtly shifted. It was a discomfiting feeling, moreso than assuming the shape of a horse or bird, as he changed into a stranger's skin.

As an afterthought, he subtly altered his armor, allowing himself the indulgence of opening the top to make some room. An appreciative murmur went through the elves, and he opened his eyes with a smirk of his own. The witch was not smiling, but rather stepping back expectantly with a scowl on her face.

Loki stepped through her circle, the first punch already thrown. Even under his armor, his hips were full, his waist slender, and his breasts were obviously larger than hers.

"Fandral," Loki heard from somewhere behind himself. "Close your mouth. That's still Thor's miserable brother."

How funny that he took reassurance from that little slight. Loki paced the circle, keeping his shoulder toward the witch, never taking his eyes from her as she backed into her center, her claw at the ready again.

As Loki waited, he felt a twinge of surprise that he heard no catcalls from the Asgardians, no insults or mutters against his display of magic and this particular shape-shifting. Perhaps they felt how much rested on this one duel, and yet again Loki felt a swell of pride.

Not Thor but Loki Silvertongue was their champion today.

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

The rain and mist blurred and made seeing outside the circle almost impossible. Only the shadows of the dark elves remained, with the outline of the Aesir behind Thor and the Warriors Three. From the gray swirls, Loki came into clear view, sweeping back his now long hair as it grew heavy with rain, and he stepped over Sif, effectively putting himself between her and the witch.

For her part, the witch watched every step, trying to take his measure. He already knew how she fought. She had to gauge his own abilities, and she made little lunges, tipped her head back in a taunt, trying to see his reflexes, his dominant hand. That he had altered his shape into that of a female spoke of his power, but if that was his limit, then all she had to fear was his knife.

Loki, however, hoped the fight would not devolve into knife work. Large breasts cost him some stability, and the drop in his center of balance meant he was not sure of his own movements. He had to keep the fight at a distance, purely spellcraft, and he made a quick study of her circle, her spell made physical.

Raw and primal, her magic relied on the placement of the stones and the rough runes hewn into those stones. Like a long sentence or poem, the magic spelled itself out in symbols crudely cut into the rock, and at the very center, a complex sigil dug into the mud anchored the whole work. He did not recognize the word itself, but the structure of the center was familiar. If the stones were the lock, this sigil was the key.

"Thykja me feot en medjaz min vringa steinen?" she teased. "Min peower es celu her." (Think you to fight me at the center of my own circle? My power is complete here.)

Like a moth, Loki thought, turning to face the spider in her own web. But he would not give her the satisfaction. He stopped and let his coat swirl dramatically at his calves, still keeping his shoulder turned towards her, making himself a smaller target.

Tired of waiting, she lunged in earnest, forcing him back several steps until he turned sharply, dragging his foot in the mud to keep himself from slipping. Her bare feet moved more easily, pivoting so that she could leap again, slashing at his face. He caught her slim waist and fell backwards, throwing her as he landed hard on the ground.

While he turned on his hands and knees, coming up in a crouch, she was already charging back on him, baring her teeth as if she would bite his throat. Loki threw himself to one side, rolling as she jumped, and felt a sharp scrape against his chest. Turning his hand in the mud, he came to his feet while backing away, glancing at the torn cloth.

His breath caught. The poisonous scratch had ripped his leather jerkin but drawn no blood, stopping only a hair's breadth before the bare skin of his breasts. He glanced up at her, and she gave him a fake smile.

No time to alter his shape right now, and he wouldn't give her the satisfaction, but he made a mental note to sculpt himself more athletically in the future. He glanced at the ground for an instant. The mud was more water than earth now, but somehow her magic runes in the ground remained unchanged.

Around them, the dark elves cheered and waved their swords, and the mist made their numbers seem all the greater for how they faded into the gray wisps. More clearly at the edge of the circle, Thor stood with his arms folded, his gaze occasionally falling to Sif, still unconscious only an arm's length away. Loki wondered what thoughts ran through the Asgardian army, but all the warriors he spotted made no smirk or mutter, intent on every turn of the fight.

The witch stood straight, holding her claw at her side. The time for physical attacks had ended, it seemed, and Loki turned all his attention on her.

"Iss straumr," she breathed, turning her hand. (Ice stream.)

The rain turned to ice, and the mud at her feet froze in a line towards him, rushing as fast as an ocean wave to crest over him, swallowing him in a jagged block of ice. Barely visible under the surface, Loki stood like a statue with a faint look of surprise on his face.

Then the ice cracked down the middle and fell away in pieces, and Loki's skin held a faint blue sheen as he warmed again. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the stump of ice left in the mud.

"Such slow casting," he said, shaking his head. "It's as if you're not even trying."

Her eyes narrowed and, dragging in a deep breath, she hurled a bolt of green flame at him. He dodged, then bent backwards as she sent another, lighting the circle and sending the fire out into the army of elves. Nearly set ablaze, the elves yelled and ducked out of the way, backing up as she sent out more in her anger. Each came tantalizingly close to Loki, and each time he turned or twisted out of the way barely in time.

She sent him dodging across the circle, sending more flames out into her own army as she grew more frenzied, and his laughter set her teeth on edge. Worse, the Aesir laughed at how Loki made a fool of her, chuckling at the show he made. Finally she cupped her hands, turned and flung a huge fireball, and to her delight, it caught the edge of his swirling coat.

Flames raced along his back as he spun, and he bent as if in pain. His hands swept the ground and he gave a loud cry—

—of triumph as the stones of her circle cracked.

She had time to turn and look, to catch the shocked faces of her army, to catch her magic dissipating as the rain stopped, and when she turned again, she caught Loki's knife in her stomach.

Grasping the hilt, she gasped as blood flowed over her fingers. The air was silent save for the wind. And as she fell to her knees in the mud, Loki walked past her, her green flames snuffed out. His coat was not even singed.

"The fight is over," Loki said, shedding his female form. "Tend to your wounds and take your army elsewhere. Maybe in a few hundred years you might be worth dueling."

She barely heard him over her shock. He had toyed with her. The entire battle had been an act. She saw his marks around her sigil and realized he had overwritten her spell. Fire and ice welled up in her stomach, the wound boiling in pain as she groaned. She shivered violently as she pulled the knife, unable to scream, unable to drag in any breath.

Hoping for help, she looked around at her army. For a moment they stared at her in disbelief, in growing anger. And then they turned and disappeared into the mist, fading from the battlefield as if they had not existed. She watched them go with wide, glistening eyes. Abandoned.

At the edge of the circle, Thor crossed the line of broken stones and knelt by Sif, turning her and lifting her from the mud. He put his ear to her chest and smiled in relief to hear her heart and hear her breathing.

"She lives," Thor said. He looked up in gratitude. "Loki, come. This battle is done."

"Really, Thor," Loki said as he approached the far edge. "Next time, try to make the fight a challenge. A backwater witch in a backwater realm is hardly—"

Thor's sudden wide, angry eyes were Loki's only warning. He turned, knowing he was too late, and caught the witch's claw deep in his chest. Staggering under her weight as she leaned against him, stumbling with her own wound, Loki yelled as he pushed her off. She landed on her back, glass eyes staring at the sky, and Loki struggled to stay on his feet.

Behind him, he heard his brother call his name. He grasped the end of the claw and violently tore it out, already shivering as the poison raced through his blood. He tried to hold onto the claw, vaguely aware that the healers would need it to tell what antidote he needed, but his hand could not grip. No wonder Sif had fallen if the poison was so potent.

He tumbled backwards. The world went from grey to startlingly red as his brother caught him, putting his arm over his shoulder, and Loki shook his head to try to stay conscious.

"Don't let me fall asleep," Loki gasped. "Don't let me—keep me awake. Keep me—"

"Do not speak," Thor said. "I shall take you and Sif to our healers—"

"No. Home," Loki rasped. "We must—home..."

"Loki, it is delirium that speaks," Thor said. "Already you grow icy."

"Thor, if you have ever listened to me," Loki said, and he swallowed down the growing lightness in his head, "then do so now. I must get home before sunset. I must..."

"What trickery have you trapped yourself in now?" Thor sighed, but he turned to Fandral, who held Sif in his arms. "You are in command. Move this army back home. Raise the banners and see to the dead. The queen shall surely give you safe passage, and already our feast awaits us in Asgard."

"You are taking him back?" Fandral asked as he handed Sif to Hogun, who disappeared into the warriors around them. "He should be here with the healers—"

"We shall reach the portal quickly," Thor assured him. "And the healers at home may find the answer more readily with all their tools at their disposal. Mayhaps you shall find the antidote waiting for you when you arrive."

"Mayhaps..." Fandral said softly, not confident at all.

As Fandral turned to issue orders, rallying the men to his voice and beginning the work of sorting their wounded, Thor wheeled his hammer beside him.

"Hold tight," Thor said to his brother. "If you can."

"I'm not so weak yet..." Loki whispered, and his arm tightened around Thor's shoulders.

A moment later, the initial jerk knocked the breath from him, and then Loki saw the field from hundreds of feet in the air, above the rain. Between the clouds, here and there sunlight broke through. So many lay on the ground, elf and Aesir alike, and they all blurred as his head swam.

"We are almost arrived," Thor warned him. "Brace yourself for our landing."

Loki grit his teeth, but he'd flown with Thor before and even in the best of health, the landings felt like his spine was telescoping. They descended so fast that his stomach tightened, and Thor turned him so that he could cradle Loki's head with his hand. When they landed, Thor put both arms around him, softening the blow.

Loki heard voices around them, the Queen's attendants and his brother in a rushed conversation. He did not care what they said, only that he heard the crackling of the Bifrost opening before them. Another moment, and then Thor's voice decisively cut off whoever was speaking, turning Loki towards the bridge home.

As Loki's feet dragged, however, scraping the bridge without holding his weight, he found himself suddenly swung up into Thor's arms. Loki would have complained if his jaw hadn't hung slack. He groaned and forced himself to breathe through his gritted teeth, lifting his head to try to stay lucid.

"We are almost there," Thor said. "Stay with me, brother. I am afraid you might not wake—Loki!"

Straining to hold on, reaching out to claw at the air as if he might climb out of sleep, Loki slipped into darkness.

And being sunk in darkness, Loki dreamed, and knew that he dreamed, but that did not make the darkness any more bearable. Laughter swirled around him, starting low and distant like faraway thunder, and he burrowed deeper into himself, trying to hide. No matter. The ridiculing slurs, the mocking sneers and humorless snorts, unfurled from the edge of his awareness like insects, skittering close and tapping on his skin.

God of tricks. God of lies. God of mischief and mischance and misfortune. There was no nobility in such titles. No warrior's code, no much vaunted honor. The sly god of old, dark books that should have stayed closed, god of forbidden magics better left forgotten.

Sometimes he entertained the fantasy that he was a changeling, exchanged as an infant for Odin's true child, stolen from wise and ancient elder gods who fought with wit and spellcraft rather than brawn and stubborn pigheadedness. Unsightly gods, perhaps, but who could change their shape and twist the fabric of time and space, and who now suffered the terrible burden of an Asgardian dolt of a child, crashing through spells and accidentally ripping books apart.

As Odin suffered the ignominy of a spellcaster, a seidrman, an ergi who wasted time with woman's magics rather than picking up a sword, who flung little knives and tricks at his enemies. Nevermind that Odin was a spellcaster himself, that Loki's mother read the future. Loki's heritage was of magic. Why could no one see that?

But his protests only brought more laughter, burning into his brain and scalding his heart like poison. The laughter roared in his ears, and he turned in his sleep, trying to rise out of his dream. If only he could get away, yank himself up and back into the world of pain and light and sharp words-

He bolted upright, his breath coming in shakes, and he grasped the edges of the bed as fire raced through his body. He shut his eyes to the light and took a long tortured gasp, forcing himself to breathe slowly.

"Lie back down," someone scolded him. "'tis more a death rattle than a breath."

A hand pressed at his chest, but he refused to move, giving a tight shake of his head.

"How...how long?" he gasped out. "Tell me how long."

"How long?" came an echo, then a wordless sound of understanding. "Ah, you were asleep less than an hour. You are fortunate. The healers say they can create an antidote, but it will be more time before-"

Loki blindly reached out, grabbing at Thor's shoulder, finding and grasping his cape.

"What time is't?" Loki slurred. He let his head hang down, eyes shut. "Is't still day?"

"Aye," Thor said, grabbing his hand and making him let go, instead holding Loki as he swayed. "The sun sinks into the horizon, but some part of it remains-"

"Good enough," Loki said.

He pushed at Thor, turning and pulling the blankets back. The move made him lean too hard to the left, and he caught himself on his elbow as he shook his head clear.

A chair stood before him, his bloodstained clothes draped over its back. Wasting a moment to steady himself, he tugged his pants closer and drew them on, lacing the strings on the front. Standing at the bedside, his boots were easy to step into.

"Are you mad?" Thor started, then snorted. "A stupid question. Of course you are mad. But are you suicidal?"

"As you were so eager to remind me," Loki wearily muttered, "I have a holmgang to honor."

"What?" Thor whispered. "But...you abandoned it to fight alongside us."

Loki held up a finger, punctuating his words. "Only partly true."

"Even you cannot reorder time," Thor argued. "Lay back down and rest. The poison has made you delirious."

"I admit," Loki said, slowly regaining enough control to stop panting. "I am not in the best condition for this fight, but I do think I am well enough to defeat the likes of Wuldor."

He stood, foregoing his shirt and pulling on his coat with a wince. His left arm refused to lift completely, and his sense of balance tilted back and forth for no reason. Putting his hand to his waist, he summoned his sheath and the endless knives inside. Tired as he was, his magic was untouched, and he drew on that to sustain himself, to push away the fever dreams and his weariness for just a little longer.

"Loki, no!" Thor demanded with the tone Loki usually thought of as the royal roar. "If you do not return to bed, I will put you there myself. The time has passed. Accept that you lose no face due to-"

"-to saving you with magic?" Loki laughed. "Only proof of my true nature. It changes nothing."

"I warned you-" Thor said, coming for him.

"It changes nothing!" Loki yelled, facing him. The effect was marred by how he wobbled on his feet. No matter-he stayed standing, driven by emotion and the sheer need to continue. "I turned into a woman, Thor. A woman! Does one more victory matter so much to your men that they forget that?"

"Do you-?"

"Thor's every campaign ends in victory," Loki said. "What matter how it happens? Warriors go either to Valhalla or return to a feast. But Loki does not often change his shape, or play with magic, not where all and sundry may see. No, they will forget victory and think only of my shape!"

Thor paused.

"In their defense," Thor said awkwardly, "your breasts were unforgettable."

Loki stared at him for a moment, then made a noise between a snarl and a sigh and moved toward the door.

"Loki..." Thor's voice became low, like a summer storm, and he stood in his brother's way. "Do not test me."

Shaking his head once, Loki looked up at him with a faint smile.

"Oh brother..." he said softly. "I do speak honestly this time. I have but a few more minutes. Will you not let me face Wuldor in honorable combat and defeat him as a warrior?"

Thor furrowed his brow. "Your holmgang passed this morning."

"Give me your hand," Loki said, holding his out. "I fear I will not make the hall otherwise."

Unsure, hesitantly lifting his hand, Thor set his lips in a thin line and took his brother's arm, turning to escort him.

"What trickery have you wrought?" Thor pressed. "You will die if you press on like this."

"Living in shame or dead with honor?" Loki said, leaning hard on him. "What would you have me do?"

"I would have you destroy Wuldor this morning," Thor snapped at him. "And damn the consequences. You could have come after us if you felt so strongly."

The pain wracking his body did not fade, but Loki smiled in relief. Relieved at what, he didn't know. Foolish sentiment, perhaps, but of all the warriors of Asgard, Thor thought him honorable. That he had something worth defending.

The halls of the palace were empty and cold. No doubt everyone sat in the main hall, feasting their victory, remembering the brave dead with happy stories, and perhaps watching Wuldor boast of how Loki had run away. Did they tell tales of Loki's magic? Did Odin and Freya sit mute, listening to his slander?

Beside him, something gleamed. Loki paused and found his reflection in a sheet of glass along the wall. He saw not an Odinson but a bedraggled monster. Ghastly pale, his skin gave a white background to the black veins made prominent by poison. His body tilted, shoulders canted to favor his numbed left arm, and he stood as a marionette with half his strings cut. Blood colored his clothes, broad splashes along his arms and front, and the edges of his coat were torn from axes and swords he had not noticed. And in the center of his coat, a little to one side, the deep puncture and dark rose of dried blood where the witch had stabbed him.

"I almost look like a fighter," he whispered to himself.

"You are," Thor said. "You just prefer mischief-making and scheming to honorable combat."

Loki's answering smile was not pleasant. "I do, don't I? Hurry, not much time left."

"Before you collapse?"

"Before I win victory for myself."

They reached the main hall in another moment. Before they went in, Loki paused at the curtains shielding them from view and straightened his clothes, swept back his hair and took a long, deep breath, finding his center and pushing thoughts of pain away. Calm, he must be calm. And his words and tricks must flow so smoothly.

"Thor," he murmured. "However this ends, you know that I would do anything to safeguard you."

"I know," Thor said just as softly. "As I also know that you will win whatever trick it is you've planned."

The rush of confidence seemed to mute the pain. Loki let go of Thor's hand and strode confidently into the hall.

Tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

Loki walked into the hall, and as he passed each table, laughter and feasting stopped. Drinks paused at lips, meat was left on the fork, and eyes widened while he slipped to the front of the throne. There, as expected, Odin and Frigga sat in attendance, their faces stern as Wuldor stood before them, Loki's note in his hand.

At the growing silence, Frigga glanced around in confusion and then spotted Loki, and her hands tightened on the arms of her throne. Her younger son looked as if he would collapse at any moment. Beside her, Odin said nothing, unsurprised by Loki's appearance, and he only nodded and waved his hand when his son merely bowed his head in obeisance. It was doubtful if Loki could manage a proper bow as he was.

Wuldor, finding the hall suddenly quiet, followed the queen's look. He grimaced at the prince's appearance, taking a step back, but he steadied himself in an instant.

"Wuldor Erickson," Loki said, loud enough for those in the farthest corner of the hall to hear. "I am pleased to see you here, waiting as I bid. Shall we begin?"

More and more, the poison worked through his voice, turning it ragged. No doubt everyone knew why he looked so pale and weary, and whispers began to pass through the long tables. His black veins standing prominently on his chest, running up his neck to creep upon his left cheek, surely gave the dark elf witch a little glory after the battle, and Loki felt his heart swell at the horror in their voices. No weak sorcerer stood before them, but a fearsome son of Odin who kept his feet even beset by such potent poison.

A moment passed before the shock of Loki's appearance faded enough for Wuldor to realize he'd been spoken to. He stood straight and spoke to match Loki.

"My prince," he started, loud in his confidence. "I offer sympathy for the terrible wound you suffer, but the time of our holmgang has passed, and been passed for several hours now. I waited in the circle. You did not come. Now I come for my due."

Murmurings began again, the warriors wondering what Loki would do to escape being stripped of his titles and privileges. A missed holmgang was not an easy breach to forgive.

Loki tilted his head with a smile, a terrible parody of misunderstanding on his face. "Ah, Wuldor, you are mistaken. I thought I had worded it clearly enough in my letter, but perhaps I have forgotten. It has been such a long day, after all..."

The feeling of the hall changed to expectation. No longer startled by his appearance, the warriors knew he had done something tricky again, and they waited in silence. Loki's tricks were fine when played on someone else, and Wuldor had so conveniently timed this holmgang to miss the battle that no one minded a trick on him.

"Your note was clear," Wuldor said, anger turning his face redder. He held up the scrap of paper—though whole and gilded at the edges—crumpled and covered with notes and a faint ring of dried mead. Even in the delivery, Loki gave unending insults, and the text of the note was no exception. "'Wuldor, your accusations are as baseless as they are reflections of your own cringing nature. Expect me at the sun's break of Thursday, when this promise to send you to Niffleheim swiftly and without pain will hopefully encourage you to arrive'."

Snorts and chuckles followed. Loki's writing was, as usual, sarcastic and terse, and did Wuldor none of the honor of accepting the holmgang in person. Frigga turned to Odin, who put his hand on hers and shook his head once. Fate would unwind as it must, and neither of them must interfere.

"I knew you had trouble reading," Loki sighed. "It is not Thursday which I wrote, but rather Thor's day."

Wuldor made a small noise of irritation. "That doesn't matter. Thor's day _is_ Thursday."

"Look, if I meant to write Thursday, I would have," Loki said. He put one hand out, grasping a tall candelabra to keep his balance. "But sunrise today wasn't going to work. Thor insisted on going to Svartalfheim today and I don't like to miss a fight by his side. I'm sure you agree."

This time the mutters were darker, and all eyes turned on Wuldor. For his part, Wuldor set his jaw and did not dignify Loki with an answer. It was one way people could deal with the prince, and yet today the hall was, if not on Loki's side, then at least turned against Wuldor. Loki may have been a trickster, but he had defied Thor and risked all honor to join him in combat.

"And I am grateful he let me join him," Loki said, drawing laughs from those who had seen how Thor had nearly throttled him to keep him from going. "Though I am laid a little low from a witch's poison, I come in time to honor my holmgang, now at the breaking of the sun over my brother's day. For is it not Thor's day, returned victorious from battle with these, his loyal men, against hordes of dark elves?"

A loud cheer rang from the men as Loki played their emotions, and as they let him play their emotions. This was a fine ballad in the making, better than the scop in the corner who had abandoned his saga to instead take notes. Victory, a feast, and now what promised to be an interesting duel.

"You lay your honor on a clever turn of phrase," Wuldor said in disgust.

Loki glanced through the closest window at the last gleaming edge of the sun, a sliver of burning gold that threw Loki's shadow across the entire room. He frowned, his patience spent, and a cold chill of night rushed through the hall, fluttering the candles and torches.

"Everything I do is clever," he said lowly. "Now, Wuldor Erickson, you coward—"

He put his hand out, made a quick gesture, and a spark wheeled over the floor at his feet, burning into the stone a painfully small circle, no more than six feet across.

"—pick up your sword— "

He held his hand up, summoning Wuldor's sword from the room holding their weaponry and casting it disdainfully at the man's boots, motioning for him to approach.

"—and one of us shall not leave this place again on his own feet."

Silence. No one jeered or urged Wuldor on. If he did not accept, it meant his own honor. If he did, then he faced their prince, who stood at all broken angles, looking like a doll holding himself up by force of will. Wuldor picked up his sword and, after a glance at Odin, drew it, but he did not step closer. After a moment, Loki sighed and patted the sheath at his hip.

"You are afraid of my knives?" He drew one and held it down at his side. "Here, I promise only to use one. I'm sure it will match the length of your sword well enough."

The taunt worked. Wuldor snarled, threw aside his scabbard, and stomped into the circle.

Wuldor swung his sword in a broad arc at Loki's chest, intending to force him back or else to take him apart in one stroke. Instead, belying his wound, Loki crouched and caught himself on the floor, hands splayed on the cold stone. The instant the sword passed overhead and Wuldor shifted with its balance, Loki rose swiftly, leaning backwards, as he whipped his arm around like the blade of a windmill. His knife's edge caught Wuldor's cheek and forehead, just missing his eye.

"First blood is mine," Loki taunted as stepped back to steady himself, his foot at the very edge. His shoulder hung as before, and his right leg trembled with exertion. "Or do you intend to stay until you take my life?"

"I'll have your head," Wuldor growled, wiping his sleeve across his brow to keep the blood from his eye. "Since when does a witch know how to fight?"

Coming down towards Loki's head, the next swordstroke was harder to dodge. Loki pivoted hard on one foot, turning his shoulder towards Wuldor, and the sword only just swept uselessly by his back, taking the tattered edge of his coat with it. When Loki turned again, dragging his arm through the air, his weakness became more obvious, his elbow all but locked and his shoulder nigh useless as he used his arm more like a whip, aiming painfully at his opponent.

"Abandon this holmgang while you can," Wuldor said, ducking back, then swinging again. "You cannot last long like this."

Wheeling like a broken doll, Loki turned as he bent low, performing a handstand that sent his boot into Wuldor's face. His right arm buckled under the strain and he toppled down, doing his best to control the fall. As he landed on his side, he lashed out with all his strength, kicking Wuldor's knee so that it bent the wrong way.

Crying out, Wuldor landed on his back, wincing as all the breath was knocked from him. When he could see again, blinking hard to clear the blur, he found Loki on one knee, clasping his right arm, the knife now in his left. The prince's head tilted to one side as he squinted, struggling to see him, and he bent at his side, breathing shallow as if he had a cramp.

"An amusing fight," Loki chuckled. "Both of us are crippled—I by poison, and you by cowardice."

Wuldor looked around. His sword had fallen out of his hand, and he desperately wanted to slide it through Loki's face. Firelight gleamed off the steel, and he grasped the hilt, rose up on his elbows-

Loki began to laugh.

His eyes had turned black with poison. Dark drops of blood gathered on his skin and the wound on his chest bled freely. He could barely move, and yet he knelt with his head thrown back, not even looking at his opponent anymore, laughing lowly as if his pain was hilarious.

Wuldor froze, not sure if he should attack or not. Had Loki gone mad?

Still chuckling, staring directly at Wuldor with empty eyes, Loki rose on one knee and aimed at Wuldor's throat.

The knife was too close, the prince too monstrous. Abandoning his sword, Wuldor turned on his hands and knees and crawled up to his feet, bolting out of the hall as fast as he could run. He disappeared around a corner, followed a moment later by the sound of the great doors opening for him.

No laughter chased him out. The warriors sat in shock, and the men closest to Loki stood, not sure how to help. Odin calmed them with a wave of his hand, his steady face assuring them that he was yet in control. Loki stood, noticed the blood on his skin and turned to spare his mother the sight.

"Loki Odinson remains unbloodied," Odin said, aware of the irony. "Do those assembled witness to this holmgang?"

The crowd might not have known entirely how Loki won the fight, but Wuldor's ignominious defeat and Odin's leadership cleared away their unease. Although a few of them wavered, recovering their wits after Loki's performance, all answered in loud aye.

"Then his honor is unsullied," Odin said. "And Wuldor shall face his satisfaction. For the time being, however, Thor, see to your brother."

As if unleashed, Thor went to his brother's side, unclasping his cape as he did. Loki had stopped laughing, but he stared at nothing in front of him while still clutching his knife. Knowing the sting of that point, Thor swallowed once and raised his hand, prepared to catch his brother's wrist if he attacked.

"Loki?" Thor said. "Can you hear me?"

Loki did not respond except to blink, wincing at the way his eyelids seemed to scratch.

"Wuldor is gone," Thor tried again. "You've won...brother?"

The knife began to slip, and Loki made a noise between a growl and a whine, groaning like a sick child. As his arm relaxed at his side again, letting the knife clatter to the floor, he drew a long shuddering breath.

"Thor..."

With a nod, Thor pulled Loki close, putting his brother's arm over his shoulder and bringing him up to his feet. He had to be careful not to pull him completely off the floor, turning him around to take him back to the palace's healers.

Clenching his jaw, Loki forced himself to match Thor's steps, refusing to be seen as an invalid. Bad enough that the hall was silent as they went. The last time Thor had fought a holmgang, admittedly nigh centuries ago, there had been wild cheers and laughter. Were they angry that he had won? Disturbed? Perhaps he should not have laughed, but-

The cramp in his side stabbed him again, and he put aside his questions to focus on twisting, easing the pain as he breathed.

As soon as they reached the arched doorway, passed through the curtains that shielded the hall from view, Thor pulled his cape free and unfurled it around Loki, then bent and hauled his brother into his arms. Instead of arguing, Loki closed his eyes and rested against Thor's shoulder, counting his brother's steps and the torches on the wall, the heat and the light slipping by in the darkness. By his count, they were still several minutes walk away.

"No...congratulations?" Loki murmured.

"You could not have spared time to defeat him this morning?" Thor grumbled. "And then come to join the battle? You risked your life to play this trick."

"No one will dare challenge me," Loki whispered. "Not now."

"No one would challenge you if you let me stand for you," Thor snapped. Surprised at his own temper, Thor stamped it down. "I will argue with you further on this, but later. For now I only hope you have not done lasting damage to yourself."

They both knew he hadn't, but Thor was worried for him and Loki did not have the heart or the strength to rub that in Thor's face. He sighed as he was set down on a bed and unceremoniously undressed again, assaulted with a damp cloth to wash away the blood. The pillow seemed to drag him down, the mattress pulled at him, turning his body impossibly heavy, and he was vaguely aware of his brother whispering to him to sleep before he sank down into comfortable darkness.

Tbc...


	6. Chapter 6

**Conclusion**

Loki fought as if underwater and every punch was thrown in slow motion. He could not speak to form his spells, drowning if he opened his mouth, and if he tried to turn his hand, to motion out a cheap cantrip, the water itself leeched away his magic. Floundering, he sank into dark waters, where just out of sight a thousand jaws opened up, ready to devour him, and when he screamed, he swallowed salt water.

The ocean scalded him, bubbling as it boiled, while his head swam. Pressure mounted until he thought he would be crushed, and his body felt a hundred times heavier. No air, oppressive heat, a darkness that grew palpable and the rushing of serpents swimming around him, fangs ready, never taking their eyes off of him-

Sunlight streamed across his face.

Blinking, he lay still for several minutes, waiting as the bright blur became the outlines of a door, a table. The edges of his bed. A cabinet. Letting his head tilt a few inches one way, he winced as the light struck his eyes. Not the harsh gleam of daylight but the weak glare of cloud-covered dawn. He heard rain next, a light patter on the windowsill, and the wind brought the cool storm air with it.

Should he try to get up? He laughed at the thought. Why not sleep the day away? If he hadn't already. He supposed he might have slept a week, but he doubted it. He felt as tired and worn as when he'd collapsed against his brother. The blanket on him was heavy and hot. With some effort he kicked it down to his waist, thinking it was a luxury to shiver in the damp breeze.

"Finally," someone said nearby. "You wake."

Far away and muffled, the voice was still obviously his brother's. Loki closed his eyes.

"S'a trick," he mumbled. "I merely seem awake."

"Even you cannot lie when laid low like this," Thor said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and leaning over him. "You are addled by fever."

"Is it fever?" Loki said, slurring his words. "Felt rather like drowning."

"You must have struggled mightily to swim then," Thor said, comfortably close as he put his hand on Loki's forehead. "The healers said t'was miraculous that you could fight. They said your will to live did more than their antidote."

Thor touched Loki's face with a cloth, soaked and dripping water along his temples. Loki did not move. His hair felt damp already, and the icy water soothed away the heat. As Thor moved the rag along his jaw, over his eyes, Loki felt the heat fade, the fever long since broken and now clearing away.

"More than my will," Loki murmured, wondering if he only thought he could speak and if his words weren't all a jumble. "I won my life back from death in a battle of wits. Riddles. For days and nights I riddled against the eldritch horrors that sought to devour my spirit."

Thor chuckled. "Ever the storyteller. You were asleep for mere hours."

"Time passes differently in the dark realms," Loki insisted in a weak voice. "Monstrous creatures far older than gods-I gambled my life against them and defeated them at their own game. Where crashes nothing and air burns without smoke, that was where I found my life again. Am I not clever?"

"You always speak in riddles," Thor said softly, audibly soaking the cloth again. "But I knew you would wake."

His quiet confidence steadied Loki, calmed his heart the way it always did. "And so here you are."

Loki fell silent. For long minutes neither spoke, listening only to the rain, the soft thunder in the background. They did not need to speak. Centuries together meant that they knew each other's mind as if the other had spoken.

"You could have told me your trick," Thor said without heat. "Instead of leaving me to believe that you had forfeited your holmgang."

"In truth, I was not sure I hadn't," Loki admitted, pausing between words to gather the strength to keep going. "I had no way of knowing when we would return. If the battle carried into the night, I had some vague idea of stealing away as we made camp. But it all worked in the end."

"Instead of facing him and then following," Thor said. "Heimdall would not have refused such a request."

Not bothering to mention how Heimdall simply aggravated him for no reason, Loki half-shrugged.

"The runes are not a precise oracle," Loki said. "What if you had met your fate before I arrived? Wuldor was not worth that."

Thor smiled, and he moved the damp cloth along his brother's throat, down his bare shoulders. "Truly, I am grateful my little brother finds it impossible to do as he is told. The fate of kingdoms sometimes spins on the smallest of circumstances."

Silence again. The gray clouds slunk around the castle, rumbling comfortingly like a cat's purr, and Loki shivered as another cold breeze played over his skin. A moment later, Thor had drawn the sheet over him.

Growing suddenly self-conscious, Loki squirmed when he realized Thor was here because no one else would come. What healer would remain with a bored trickster, always fearing that his whim would send the cabinets toppling or their dried herbs growing once more in the bottles? He had been here before, and then he had given the chairs life and set them chasing after the healers like a stampede of horses, had the candles casting shadows of dark Jotuns in the corners, delighting in the startled screaming. Only the god of thunder braved Loki's whims.

"Are you not bored?" Loki murmured. "I would not keep you here if you do not wish it."

"So quick to get rid of me?" Thor asked, mocking wounded. "I minister to my sick brother, who saved my army and then vanquished his foe while playing the monster in front of the entire hall. How should I be bored?"

"'Monster'," Loki echoed, smiling despite the heat in his head. "Did I scare them so much?"

"You always leave an impression upon the men," Thor laughed. "How did Fandral phrase it? 'With his wits or his tits'."

Loki groaned. "Between this and my spellcasting, I shall have no end of dueling."

This time Thor's laughter was dry. "Nay, there shall be no more to challenge you. There is not a man who was with us on Svartalfheim who does not recount your fight to the womenfolk, protecting Sif and cleverly enraging the witch so that she lost her mind in the heat of anger. Your playacting to distract her from your true purpose, and how you...well."

Thor's voice trailed off, and Loki opened one eye.

"'Well' what?" he demanded.

Thor did not answer immediately, and Loki used the moment to see if he could rise from the bed a little, pushing himself up a few inches on one arm. Thor put his arm around him, making the effort easier.

"Come, brother," Loki murmured, "here I lay weary and wasted all for the love of you. I will be bored if you do not speak, and what repayment is that to your clever savior?"

"Too clever by half," Thor muttered, then spoke louder. "They mention how you turned your back on your fallen enemy, proving that 'even Odin's clever son shows that same stupid streak of recklessness'."

"Fandral again," Loki guessed, and rightly so if Thor's half- snort was anything to go by. "Thor-"

"Peace," his brother cut him off. "I well know your thoughts regarding Fandral. Be assured he is among your chief admirers today."

"Because I gave him two reasons to think well of me," Loki grumbled.

"Two extraordinary reasons," Thor chuckled. "I did not lie. All the women of Asgard should be as endowed as you were."

"If they all had my 'endowments'," Loki muttered, "you should have legions of sorcerers at your beck and call, and I should never have to put up with the likes of Wuldor."

The depth of bitterness in Loki's voice surprised Thor, but not for long. He knew how hard it was for Loki to bear up under the constant smirks, sneers and muttered insults, had seen how Loki turned sullen and reclusive in his chambers or in the library. How any little mischief that fell on his naysayers, even if he had nothing to do with it, was inevitably laid at his feet. Mock the God of Mischief at your own peril, all of Asgard knew, though there was no way Loki could have visited the house of every person who suspected or guessed his nature.

"They were afraid of you," Thor said simply. "Last night. You showed them a side of yourself you normally keep hidden, and they shuddered for it."

Loki did not answer. Fear. Not respect. So what if he could fight? It was not his nature, no more than if Thor learned magic or if Wuldor feigned bravery. They all knew he was not like them. Loki practiced spellcraft, cast runes, shifted his form like water, and with his brother...

"Sit behind me," Loki said softly. "Hold me."

Thor did so. It took some maneuvering, carefully bringing Loki upright and holding him steady while Thor eased behind him, long legs on either side of him and adjusting the pillows before again bringing Loki against his chest. Loki lay his head on Thor's shoulder, breathing out a long sigh.

"So thin," Thor murmured, sliding his hands along Loki's arms to his sides. "We must go hunting again. You gain back your appetite then."

Riding out to hunt and then eating the kill at camp-Loki's best memories were filled with their lonely trips to other worlds and to Asgard's frontier. Exploring ruins from civilizations so long past that even Odin did not know their names, discovering scraps of ancient magics and sometimes even finding the rare rusted sword or gleaming treasure, was a delight that he could share with Thor without one of them growing bored. He nodded once and turned his head, burying himself against Thor's throat.

To send out magic while ill was risky at best. Nevertheless, Loki sent out his shadow to cover them. Like a broad black blanket, it spread over them and hung over the bed, leaving them two dark shapes if anyone cared to look in. No wandering healer, not Heimdall, not even Odin would see them veiled in his shadow.

"I shall never get used to this," Thor said, holding up his hand. Light dappled his skin as if shining through leaves, and he rubbed the magic between his fingers. Thick but smooth, like cold molten metal. "It feels wrong."

"It feels magical," Loki corrected in a whisper. "Not so loud. We can still be heard."

"I know." Thor chuckled to feel his brother's skin warm beneath his hand. "And how much of your fever was a feint?"

"Not as much as I would have liked," Loki admitted, turning on his hands and knees. "But it bought us this time alone."

"You are lucky for that duel then," Thor said, allowing his brother to straddle him, lying back as Loki worked at his pants. "Sif was well soon after receiving the antidote. You could beg off that you fought while poisoned."

"I have you alone for the first time in a fortnight," Loki said. "Don't waste it talking about Sif."

Thor laughed, a rumble to match the thunder outside, and returned Loki's ministrations with a kiss. Around the castle, the rain grew stronger, beating steadily with a loud patter to drown murmurs and half-quiet words that might have slipped under the door, and shadows covered them both as they crashed together, burning like lightning.

end


End file.
